The Blood and the Trench
by Sceadu
Summary: Now Complete: This is a story featuring the Doctor imagined as portrayed by Rik Mayall and is set during the First World War. Some violence. Please review.
1. Blood and the Trench Part One

The sky was black and even the shimmering night stars could not break through the dark and heavy clouds. The rain was hard and constant, ringing out a tinny rhythm of the helmets of the two young soldiers. Archie was glad of the long socks riding high up his breaches from his heavy mud splattered boots. The muddy slushy water in the bottom of the trench lapped at his ankles. He looked at Tom in his tan coloured kilt, splatters of black mud running over his pink and shivering legs. 

"God I'm glad I'm an Englishman," said Archie in a thick London accent.

"You won't be so glad when I beat you across the head with your rifle" replied Tom. Archie liked the sound of Tom's singsong accent; it reminded him of his Gran. 

"Looks like were in for another quiet night, there's been little action for a week now," said Archie.

"No but when it comes" Tom cocked his rifle as he spoke "We'll be ready for em".

Archie gave a limp cheer, "hold this a sec will ya" he said passing his gun to Tom to hold "I'm dying for a pee"

Archie waddled through the swampy sludge of the trench floor over to a corner turn. He let out a huge sigh of relief as the steam from his warm urine rose around him.

Tom turned when he thought he saw something flash past the edge of his vision. Suddenly a high pitched squeal pierced Tom's hearing, he looked franticly around for the source of the noise. His eyes squinting as he tried to cover his ears with his hands while still keeping a grip of both the guns. Finally he located the source of the noise and a cold shiver ran down his spine. The shrill screaming was coming from Archie, his body convulsing and blood spraying from his mouth amidst choking coughs.

Tom ran to his friend and tried to grab hold of his violently shaking form. 

"Archie" he cried trying vainly even to get his friend to see him.

Archie's eyes were frozen his face was white and his body was suddenly still. Tom stood there holding Archie's body, his mind was a blank with cold hard shock. He felt some movement, a twisting and writhing inside Archie's body pressing out through his back and against Tom's stomach. In panic he let go of the body, Archie and the two guns fell from his hands. His own cocked rifle discharging in to his foot as it fell. Tom didn't even flinch from the pain. He stood there motionless in the lashing rain, streaks of warm red blood across his face. He looked down at Archie lying prone in the mud and filth of the ground, the blood from Tom's own shattered foot flowing in to the brown water and lapping against the body. Then a long slithering slug like form slowly emerged from a cavity in Archie's chest and disappeared in to the water. Tom did not move even when the other soldiers arrived. 

Captain Henry Harvey pulled his long coat tightly around himself as he watched the men carry Tom away. Wiping away the rain from his face he moved over to Sargent Bragg who was standing by the body.  

"God Sir, look at it. It's bad enough when a bullet or a grenade tears em up, but to do it with his bare hands" said the Sargent shaking his head.

Harvey looked down at the corpse. "Can't say I knew either of them, didn't they get on?"

"No Sir, you couldn't keep em apart, joined at the hip they were. I just can't understand it"

" Well I think it's obvious don't you" said Harvey.

Bragg looked his Captain hoping for some insight.

"Obviously the boy they took away was trying to get himself invalided out of the army by shooting his foot off and this one" he pointed at Archie's body "tried to stop him. Obviously a fight broke out the other one went berserk and tore up his friend."

"Surely not Sir, Tom was rabid to get over the top".

"There you said it yourself, rabid. Desperate for a fight but suddenly overcome with the fear of actually dying himself. Well, the only escape he will get now is from a firing squad".

Clara closed the book and rested it on her lap. The travels of Sir John Manderville, she had read it a dozen times. Ever since her grandfather had given her this old tatty copy of the book she had been obsessed with it's tales of a lone traveller visiting the farthest, most dangerous and peculiar corners of the globe. It was complete fantasy of course; some of the creatures he describes may as well be from another planet. 

The lull in the fighting was unusual but it had given her a chance to red the book once more and for a while she had almost felt human again. A few strands of her copper coloured hair fell from under her cap and across her green eyes. Try as she might she was not built to carry off a nurses uniform her long gangly body just did not fit in with it's restrictions. Her personality did not fit the job much either, if one of the Doctors found her sitting here now with her feet resting on the bed of the new patient she would be in a lot of trouble. She coughed and put her feet down. 

It had seemed a good idea at first, a chance to travel far from home without her clucking Aunt Bessy. She had done her best to raise Clara after her parents died but she had never been able to get to grips with the meddlesome tomboy.

"Girls should NOT go hiking up their skirts and climbing trees" was a typical refrain.

Clara pursed her lips and started blowing the strands of hair away from her eyes. 

"I thought you'd be happy there were no more casualties". said Ned.

Clara looked coolly at Ned. He was one of only two patients left if her ward and both of the miscreants. Ned had been caught out pilfering from the stores when he had got himself so drunk he fell over and broke his leg. He was lucky to get away with a theft charge the Colonel had said he should have been up for desertion. 

Clara stood and walked slowly over to Ned on the other side of the ward. She placed her palms calmly on his damaged leg. 

"Are you alright Ned" she aid sarcastically "do you think you leg needs a little exercise"

"No" screamed Ned "I'm fine, I'll shut up now"

Clara turned away from him with a satisfied smile on her face. The last time she had exercised his leg the pain hadn't let him stop crying for an hour after. Ned wasn't that bad really it was just the only thing she had in common with him was her hair colour. Just as she contemplated this, the peace was suddenly shattered when the new patient started screaming again. 

"It's here" he yelled "It's eating him, it's eating him".

Clara ran over to him but he was silent again. That was it, time to see the Doctor about this.

Clara relished the hard sound of her shoes purposely marching down the hospital corridors. It gave her confidence, made he feel like she meant business. Doctor Smith had given the boy the most cursory of inspection and bandaged up the foot. He was here to help the sick and injured and not the suicidal or murderous he had said. Well she had something to tell him, she did not believe the stories of this boy tearing at the flesh of a friend with his bare hands. She would demand Doctor Smith gave him a proper examination. But as she fast approached his door her steps became slower and more hesitant. Silently she stood outside his office. She took a deep breath and wrapped hard on the door. A confusion of sounds like clattering metal draws slamming came for the other side. What was he up to?

"Yes, who is it?" said the sharp voice.

"It's Nurse Bennett Doctor Smith, can I come in"

"All right, as its only you, but mind not to knock anything over"

When she entered the room Doctor Smith was standing protectively in front of a pair of long red velvet curtains. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and his face held an expression of barely concealed disdain. 

"Well come on in and sit down" he said pointing at a chair smothered in dust.

She gingerly negotiated her hay through the piles of books and peculiar looking equipment pilled up across the floor.

"Doctor Smith I…"she began.

"No formality here Clara, please call me Doctor" he interrupted.

Clara looked at him quizzically. Judging from his face it looked like he thought he had paid her a great honour by saying this.

"Doctor" she began again "it's about the new patient, his episodes are becoming evermore violent".

"And what may I ask is wrong with violent episodes, some of my best episodes have been rather violent"

He looked at Clara as though he was waiting for something.

"I don't know," he said visibly deflated and shaking his head "Edwardian education just did not train the mind to appreciate a good punch-line".

The Doctor moved over to his desk and sat down.

"Listen Clara, we are here to mend to the best of our ability the broken souls who are daily sacrificed to God of war. Yes we are currently in a quiet time now but it is just the calm before another storm. When the hacked about bodies come pouring through that door we wont have time to be distracted by the ravings of a deranged murderer".

When he had stopped talking he took a deep breath and drew his hands across his face as though he could wipe away the horrors that surrounded him.

"I came here for a reason" he continued "To do my best for the innocents".

Clara sat quietly, taking in what she had heard. In the six months they had worked together she had never spoken more than a couple of words to the Doctor. She felt reassured about his motives but that would not deflect her.

"Doctor, I'm sure he is innocent. Just look at him, does he look like someone who could tear apart his best friend with his bare hands" 

"Tear apart?" replied the Doctor "I thought they said he shot him"

"No, he seems to have shot himself in the foot but when they found him with the body had been roughly butchered. Ever since he has been screaming about a snake and something eating him"

The Doctor sat bolt upright, Clara thought his expression looked like frightened pigeon. 

"No, No, that can't be right a boy of that age and build couldn't have done as much damage as you describe to Archie, he was a strong Lad".

"You knew the victim," exclaimed Clara.

"Yes" mumbled the Doctor "he used to come here to visit his brother, I thought I would take on a trip but he said he had to get the job done first and when his brother died he was even more determined to get face to face with the Germans".

Clara looked hard at the Doctor. His could not have been much older than his 40s but something about him now seemed much older. She almost jumped when he stood and ran to the door.

"Come on he, I've got to see him" he said.

"He's in the ward," said Clara.

"No not him, the body" said the Doctor as he ran out the door.

To be continued.


	2. Blood and the Trench Part Two

Clara marched along the corridor as fast as she could but even with her long legs and walking at a near gallop she was finding it hard to keep up with the Doctor. Although the Doctor seemed like he was just taking a gentle country walk he was moving surprisingly quickly. The place seemed deserted. Occasionally a nurse or porter could be seen milling about in some deserted corner waiting for something to do but the recent lull in the fighting meant there was only a handful of patients.

The hospital had been set up in a crumbling chateau but the boys had done a good job of covering up any evidence of this. The only sign of the now long lost opulence was the occasional trace of worn gilding peeping through the grey paint that now covered the Georgian panelling. 

The Doctor stopped when he got to a small wooden door in a dark corner of one the most deserted corridors they had passed through. He placed his hand on the handle and looked carefully at Clara. As she caught up with him Clara looked at the word painted on the door in smudged red paint.

"Morgue" she read it aloud.

Clara could feel the Doctor's eyes looking at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking.

"Look Clara" he said "I know you are a fairly robust person and that in your time here you have seen some things that nobody should ever have to see".

He paused, his hand caressing the brass door handle as he tried to find the right words.

"But this is different, I don't just mean the bodies. You see trouble follows me, and the people around me. I'm not sure what I am going to find down here but I have enough of an idea to know that if you come with me your life will never be the same again."

He looked at her carefully, seemingly frozen in contemplation of what he had said. Clara looked at him, his eyes seemed soft and gentle but she could read something else in his expression. It was something he was trying to hide but if you looked hard enough you could read it in his face. There was an aura of anticipation, the kind of anticipation you see on a child's face on Christmas eve as he eyes the presents under the tree, knowing that many long hours will have to pass before he knows the secret behind the wrappings. 

Clara stretched out her hand and placed it on the handle next to the Doctor's.

"Come on Doctor, we've got work to do" she said.

She turned the handle and pushed open the door.

As they descended into the cellar that the army had converted into the hospital morgue Clara looked back to make sure the door was still open. Apart from a few rusty oil lamps hanging at distant intervals around the walls the door was the only source of light.

When they had started to climb down the twelve worn steps the Doctor had wanted to lead the way. Clara was faster though and was halfway down before the Doctor knew what was happening. She stood peering through the gloom, silently taking in the scene before her. There were rows of old desks and tables spread randomly around the cellar. This was where the dead were kept, while they awaited their final journeys.

Normally this place would have been full to bursting with the faces she had seen go quiet in her ward. The smell would have been overwhelming but right now only a faint sweet odour hung in the air. There was only one body here now. Archie had been the only death for some time and now he lay alone without even the comfort of fallen comrades beside him.

Clara jumped as the Doctor brushed past her on his way towards the table where Archie lay under a frayed grey blanket. For a moment she had forgotten he was with her. 

"Do you notice something?" he asked.

"What?" 

"The smell"

"Well Doctor, considering this is a morgue it does not smell much at all"

"Precisely. Right now this place is empty but it was until recently full of bodies. Look around you, the only ventilation is that door we just came through. The air should not have cleared that quickly".

Clara looked back at the door and then ran her eyes over the cellar. The place was dark and damp, the sort of place where smells like to linger. 

"What can you smell?" asked the Doctor.

Clara took in a breath of air. 

"Roses and warm honey" she said surprised.

She thought she saw the Doctor's shoulders droop when she had said it. It was the motion of a man coming to terms with an unsavoury fact he would rather not face. Then in a single quick motion he pulled the blanket off the body.

"Oh Archie". He whispered.

Slowly Clara made her way over to the body. Gritting her teeth she made an effort to look at the body. Clara had seen a lot of men die, some of them just children, and there was something different about a body in death. Death was still, it was absolute final stillness. Even a body in the deepest coma still had signs of life, a glint in the eye or faint trace of breath from the mouth but a dead body did not move. That's what was hardest about looking at Archie now. Not the blood or the gaping wounds but the stillness.

The Doctor seemed to be out of his quiet moment of contemplation now. He was busily examining the marks and wounds on the body. Clara looked carefully at the wounds, and then she would not have to look at the face.

"Do you notice something about the body?" asked the Doctor.

Clara had not expected the question. She did not want to look to carefully.

"It's still" she whispered.

The Doctor looked up at her and briefly caught her gaze as she turned to look away. He paused for a moment, contemplating Clara's back as she moved away towards the door. He pulled the blanket back over the body and moved over to her. 

"Sorry" he said.

"No it's alright, save your sympathy for Archie" she said without turning.

"The question still stands though, there was something very strange about that body"

Clara noted how deliberately the Doctor was using the term "the body" rather than using Archie's name. Clara turned around to face the Doctor and noticed the blanket was back in place. She looked the Doctor in the face, trying not to look at the blanket. She asked him what was so strange.

"How long has he been dead?" asked the Doctor.

"Well they brought the other boy in a couple of days ago"

"So by now there should be visible signs of decay"

"and a clear odour" Clara nodded.

"Exactly, but the body is as fresh as if he had died a moment ago and then there's the smell"

Clara crossed her arms.

"Roses and Honey" she said.

"Yes, I know how this happened. Sudden death through severe trauma, that sweet smell and body preservation. Plus the context of general slaughter is perfect cover. Until that is, this latest lull in the fighting"

What are you talking about?"

"I know what did this, I know we're all in danger and that boy, Tom, is innocent"

  


The Doctor was rushing agitatedly around his office, throwing aside anything that got in his way. He was rummaging through a particularly high pile of books when he let out a high pitched squeal of satisfaction.

"Found it," he yelled to the world in general.

He ran over to the desk clasping a large red book and slamming it down on top of the clutter strewn across its surface. Clara looked at the cover. It had gold writing embossed in some strange unreadable language. The Doctor noticed her trying to decipher the text.

"It's called the Feeding Habits of Trans-Dimensional carrion eaters by Doct…"

Clara put up her hand to stop the Doctor talking.  He was so excited she was surprised he even noticed. The Doctor took the hint and opened the book. He spent a few moments flicking through what looked like an index and then quickly thumbed through the pages to find the section he was looking for. 

The Doctor lay the book open on what he had found. Two pages of text, in the same strange script as she had seen on the cover, filled the pages. A single illustration of a worm with teeth was the only break in the text.

"There it is" said the Doctor as he pointed at the illustration.

Clara looked at the Doctor and raised an eyebrow. The Doctor did not seem the to notice the expression and started to explain. 

"It's a Verlanian Gristle Grub"

The Doctor looked at Clara expecting to see realisation spreading across her face. Instead with a slight double take he finally noticed the raised eyebrow. 

"What?" he said.

The same expression, the same raised eyebrow.

"I'm not mad you know" he continued.

The eyebrow raised slightly higher.

"Look Clara, do you trust me?"

Silence.

"Ok, let's try another tack, do you want to save Tom"

The eyebrow lowered, Clara nodded and turned to look at the illustration.

"They are very rare, usually you do not get more than one to a planet. Which is good. They feed of the carcasses they find at the scenes of disasters and war zones. They are scavengers and do not kill. That's good too".

"Good" said Clara.

"However" continued the Doctor.

"Oh, there's a however" said Clara.

"Indeed. There are only two occasions when a Verlanian will break cover and kill to feed. One is when they are close to starvation. Now with the lull in the fighting this looks like the likeliest scenario. Which means that it is weak and should be easy to catch"

"Which is good" said Clara while trying to smile.

"However"

"Another however?"

"Yes. The only other time a Verlanian will kill is when it is pregnant. When they are pregnant they need enough food for their offspring. Now to ensure their supply they need to hoard their.." the Doctor paused while he tried to find the right word.

"Food" finished Clara.

The Doctor nodded. 

"Now when a Verlanian feeds normally they just finish their food then leave what's left to rot because they have no further use for it. But if they are pregnant and need to hoard it to feed their offspring then"

"They need to preserve it" finished Clara again. 

Clara thought of Archie's body lying down in the morgue, refusing to decay.

"Now, do you want to good news or the bad news?" asked the Doctor.

Clara looked at the Doctor, a dazed expression on her face.

"Well" he continued "They good news is that up to the birth the grub is weak and as soon as they give birth they die".

Clara tried to manage a smile again but she saw the Doctors face and sensed what was coming next.

"The bad news is that they give birth to around thousand lava at once. Which means that with the current lack of war dead filling the trenches then anytime now thousands of hungry little worms are going to be wriggling through the trenches looking for food".

**To be continued…….**


	3. Blood and the Trench Part Three

Clara and the Doctor were marching down the corridor again. Clara had discovered that she seemed to be spending a lot of her time with the Doctor in corridors and darkened rooms. Right now they were heading back to her ward to speak to Tom. The Doctor was striding along at a pretty pace, the coattails of his knee-length frock coat flapping behind him.  
  
"It is essential that we get that boy out of here as soon as possible, once he is safe from the firing squad then we can concentrate our attention on dealing with the gristle grub" said the Doctor.  
  
"But where can we hide him?" asked Clara gasped as she tried to keep up.  
  
The Doctor bit on his lip before he answered.  
  
"Let's just say I have a knack for making things disappear".  
  
They were nearing the ward when they heard a voice. The voice was weak and was obviously suffering.  
  
"Help, help me please" cried the voice.  
  
Clara and the Doctor broke into a run and headed straight for the ward. Sure enough the ward was the source of the voice. Ned lay hanging half out of the bed with his broken leg caught in the rails of the bed head. He was upside down and face up. His face was red and he had an obvious yellow stain around the crotch of his pyjamas.  
  
The Doctor stood looking at the man whose arms were now outstretched and trying to get their attention. Clara meanwhile was franticly searching the ward. The Doctor noticed her agitation.  
  
"Clara, have you lost something".  
  
Clara looked back at the Doctor, her dazed expression almost made him laugh but he managed to suppress it into just an amused grimace.  
  
"He.he's gone" she said.  
  
"Help" cried Ned.  
  
"Who's gone?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Tom" said Clara as she moved over to one of the empty beds.  
  
"He was sleeping here".  
  
"Please help me," cried Ned again.  
  
"Well he can't just have vanished," said the Doctor.  
  
"Where could he have gone?"  
  
"Owwy ow ow, my leg" said Ned before he began to cry quite loudly.  
  
"I don't know, he was quite delirious and there is no way he could move under his own steam, he was in too much pain" said Clara.  
  
The Doctor stood rubbing his chin as though pondering a great mystery. His eyes began to wander around the room looking for any evidence for where Tom might have gone. It was at this moment that Ned had a bright idea. He took a deep breath, sucked in his tears and yelled.  
  
"I know where he is"  
  
The Doctor and Clara looked at Ned as though they were noticing him for the first time. Looking almost choreographed the two of them stepped towards Ned and crossed their arms.  
  
"Well?" they said.  
  
"It was the Captain. He came and took him away. Said he wanted to get it all over and done with"  
  
"Get what over and done with?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"The Court Martial, they've got the firing squad and everything ready"  
  
"What?" cried the Doctor and Clara at the top of their voices.  
  
"Then he dragged him off and left me here on my own, then I needed the bed pan and there was no-one here and I tried to get out of bed but I fell and got my foot caught and I couldn't not get up and then I could not wait any longer and I wet myself and now my back and leg hurt and I'm all sore underneath" Ned finally stopped for breath.  
  
When he did stop he noticed the Doctor and Clara were already running fast out of the ward.  
  
"Help, don't leave me again" he screamed before bursting into tears again.  
  
"What are we gong to do?" asked Clara as she followed close behind the Doctor.  
  
"Well, the guard on the door said they left about an hour ago. Now if I know Captain Harvey he would want to make a spectacle of this. So I would presume the court martial and execution will be a rather rushed event in front of the other men" said the Doctor over his shoulder.  
  
"You mean he's taken him back to the front line?" asked Clara.  
  
"That's my guess. Now how long do you think it will take him to get to the trenches?"  
  
"From here, about forty minutes" replied Clara.  
  
"So knowing the Captain he would want to put on a show but he would also want it to be swift and decisive. So let's assume it would take him about half an hour to get through all the essential niceties of the trial and get down to the business of the execution itself".  
  
"Well that only gives us ten minutes and it will take us forty to get there" Clara said.  
  
The Doctor turned to look at Clara but she was no longer beside him. He looked back and saw her standing still further back down the corridor. She looked at him as a tear began to run down her cheek.  
  
"There's no hope then" she whispered under her breath.  
  
"There's always hope," said the Doctor as he pushed open the door into his office.  
  
When Clara finally turned into the Doctors office she saw him franticly rummaging around in one of the draws of his desk.  
  
"Come on Clara, there's still time"  
  
"Time for what, time to radio a message about giant flesh eating worms?" said Clara as she leant despondently against the doorframe.  
  
"That would go down well" she continued.  
  
The Doctor grinned as he drew something out of the draw. He waved it triumphantly.  
  
"Got it," he said.  
  
"Got what?" she asked looking at the object in his hand.  
  
"The key"  
  
"The key to what?"  
  
The Doctor strode confidently across the room and pulled apart the red curtains that he had been standing in front of when she had first entered his office all those hours ago.  
  
"This" he said.  
  
Clara looked at the Police Box, unsure both why a medical Doctor would have a Police Box in his Office and how he had managed to get it through the door. After deciding that it was pointless trying to find answers to either of those questions Clara turned her attention to the question in hand.  
  
"And how may I ask do you expect that to help Tom, are you going to ring Scotland Yard and ask the to nip over from London to investigate".  
  
The sarcasm in Clara's voice even surprised her but she was beginning to get angry. It was the Doctor's arrogance that had made him overlook the obvious need to look into Tom's case and now he was taking her on a tour of his obscure Police memorabilia collection. All the while every second Tom got closer to a firing squad.  
  
The Doctor did not seem to have noticed her tone of voice and was now opening the door of the box. He looked back at Clara and moved slowly towards her. Gently he took her hand and led her toward the open door of the box.  
  
"Come on Clara, we've got work to do".  
  
With that he pulled her after him into the box.  
  
The trench was empty and only the moon, sitting calmly in the black sky, reflected in the brown water that ran along the ground. Rats began to scuttle away as though they could sense the immanent arrival of something powerful. The air began to vibrate and a blue mist began to form in the centre of the trench like a mini twister picking up and hurling around any small piece of debris lying around the trench.  
  
Slowly a large blue shape began to solidify in the mist. Meanwhile an echoing noise like the tearing of the very fabric of time and space itself began to echo through the trench. Then silence.  
  
The universe took a moment to decide that a London police box now stood in the middle of a trench near the front line of the Great War. It was nearly a minute before the door of the police box opened.  
  
Clara jumped out of the doors of the police box like a lobster out of a cooking pot. Her flushed and startled face turned to look aback at the box before she took in her surroundings.  
  
The Doctor followed shortly after her and calmly locked the door behind him before moving over to Clara and putting his arm around her like a mother hen.  
  
"What is that thing, how did we get here, where are we?"  
  
The Doctor put his finger to his pursed lips to indicate that she should be quiet.  
  
"Don't worry about it, I'll explain later" he said.  
  
Clara tore herself away from him.  
  
"Don't patronise me, I am not some little child and that is not some conjuring trick to be explained away" she said angrily as she pointed at the police box.  
  
The Doctor was just about to puff himself up and respond when shouting interrupted their bickering.  
  
"Ready, Aim."  
  
To be continued. 


	4. Blood and the Trench Part Four

Sargent Bragg looked at the line of soldiers before him, most of them were younger than his own son had been. He hoped these boys would last a little longer.  
  
Tom was sitting strapped to a chair, his head swinging around him and his eyes occasionally opening before he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Bragg had helped one of the men get Tom out of his pyjamas and back into his uniform. They had not bothered trying to try to get his boots back over his bandaged foot so now his feet, bare except for the dirty bandage, squelched in the mud as his semiconscious frame wriggled in the chair.  
  
Bragg looked at the sorry state of the younger man, his uniform was still spattered with blood from the other night. Streaks of blackened dry blood covered the front of his jacket and kilt. Bragg felt cold, not physically cold but a chill ran through his soul. Whatever the boy had done this did not seem like an end that even the worst monster would deserve.  
  
The Captain appeared from out of his hole. At least that's what Bragg used to call the Captains quarters. Harvey moved towards the Sergeant as the firing squad was called to attention.  
  
"A cold night for it Bragg" said Harvey.  
  
"Yes sir, very cold"  
  
The Captain pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and began to read out the charges. Bragg began to listen to the wind, it was strong and clear tonight. He always liked to listen to the wind it did not lie or dance around your perception with meaningless words. As the Captain came to the end of his little speech and gave the Sergeant the order to proceed Bragg thought he could perceive a change in the wind. A wheezing groaning sound like the tearing of the very fabric of the air around him.  
  
The Captain coughed to indicate that Bragg should get on with the job. So Bragg, as he always had done, followed orders. He went through the motions and kept his vision fixed on the line of marksmen. The other boy was beyond help now, he had to worry about the ones who still have a chance.  
  
"Ready, Aim..." he began.  
  
"F..." started Bragg.  
  
"Stop" hollered the Doctor as he threw his self between Tom and the firing squad.  
  
"Doctor Smith, what do you think you are doing" shouted Captain Harvey.  
  
"I am here to prevent a tremendous miscarriage of Justice," said the Doctor as he moved closer to Tom.  
  
Clara appeared from the same direction the Doctor had sprung from. The Captain looked at he briefly before speaking.  
  
"Nurse, could you please persuade this physician to desist from interfering in the execution of His Majesties justice". He said.  
  
"No Captain, you are behaving like the worst kind of Hun," said Clara more confidently than she expected.  
  
"What a slur on poor old Attila, he could be charming, in-between dismemberments. I remember once..." interrupted the Doctor.  
  
"Doctor Smith please shut up and move out of the way of my men" said Harvey.  
  
"Where as this man" continued the Doctor as he pointed accusingly at Harvey.  
  
"Is as absolute, unjustifiable bore".  
  
Clara noticed that is was beginning to rain as she spoke.  
  
"Please listen Captain, we believe that Tom is innocent of any Crime" she said.  
  
"That's a may be Nurse but that can all be dealt with later" replied Harvey.  
  
"Later" exclaimed the Doctor.  
  
"Yes he has been convicted now, the proper thing to do know is apply for a posthumous pardon"  
  
"But he'll be dead"  
  
"What has that got to do with the law?" asked Harvey.  
  
"My God man are you totally void of sense." Said the Doctor.  
  
"I Sir, am a Captain in His Majesties Army, I do not need sense, I only need orders".  
  
Silence fell across the group of people as the rain began to fall more heavily. The Doctor looked up at the sky and put out a hand to feel the rain.  
  
"Oh Dear" he said.  
  
"What is it now, are you about to tell me that the sky is about to fall in," said the Captain.  
  
"Clara" said the Doctor.  
  
"What happens to a lawn when the rain falls hard on it?"  
  
"Doctor what are you on about now" she replied.  
  
The Doctor looked at here severely as though her life depended on the answer. Clara decided to reply.  
  
"Well the vibration...Oh I see" she paused.  
  
"Well?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"The vibration draws to worms to the surface" Clara finished.  
  
Then the silence was shattered by an agonising scream.  
  
The soldier on the extreme end of the firing line closest to Clara was screaming uncontrollably when a spurt of blood erupted from his mouth. Convulsing violently he collapsed to the ground dead. The body was still for a moment, and then suddenly something began to move beneath his clothes. A shape formed as it tried to break through the tough army fabric.  
  
Everyone's attention was fixed on the dead soldier when Harvey began to choke with gurgling rattle. Then falling forward on his knees and hands he began to vomit blood into the mud before him.  
  
"Two of them" said Clara.  
  
"Oh my God, the lava have hatched," cried the Doctor.  
  
"Everyone out of here now".  
  
Bragg began to draw the rest of the men together and ordered them out of the immediate area. The Doctor and Clara ran over to Tom and tried to lift the chair with Tom on.  
  
"Here man, help us," exclaimed the Doctor in the direction of Bragg.  
  
The Sergeant ran over and was helping to lift the boy when a chorus of screams came from the direction the squad had disappeared in. Bragg made to run in the direction of the screams but the Doctor pulled him back.  
  
"My men" he shouted.  
  
"It's to late for them now, we have to go this way" said the Doctor pointing in the direction of where the Police Box had appeared.  
  
"That's a dead end and I have to help them"  
  
Bragg tried to go in the direction of the screams again. The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders and spun his round to face him.  
  
"Listen, your men, all of them are dead. The only one left is this poor boy here. Now help us," said the Doctor.  
  
Bragg took one last look in the direction of his men and grabbed the chair again.  
  
The Doctor and Clara stood outside the Police Box while Bragg cut Tom's bond and lifted him up and slung him over his shoulder. The Doctor unlocked the Door.  
  
"Clara help the Sergeant get Tom into the Tardis"  
  
"Tardis?" asked the Nurse and the soldier.  
  
The Doctor indicated the Police Box with a nod of his head. Then the two of them took Tom through the doors. The Doctor began to look around the area where the Tardis had landed. There were boxes of ammunition, and to the Doctors surprise a very large crate of Scotch whisky was sitting in a corner.  
  
"Excellent" mumbled the Doctor.  
  
Then with a torrent of expletives Bragg came charging out of the Tardis.  
  
"What the F.."  
  
"Yes I know, bigger da de da" interrupted the Doctor, waving his hand in front of the sergeant's face.  
  
Bragg froze as he looked in the direction of the entrance they had come through and without speaking indicated for the Doctor to look there too.  
  
"Oh my giddy gastropod" he exclaimed.  
  
Through the break in the trench wall a dozen Gristle Grubs came crawling towards them. The Doctor looked around the trench and went into command mode.  
  
"Bragg open that crate of whisky"  
  
"You want a drink now?" "Listen Bragg, within hours there are going to be thousands of those things crawling around the French countryside. They will devour half of Europe before they start to turn on each other. When that's over there will only be one left, it will then be easy to kill. But are you prepared to see the continent ravaged in the process"  
  
Bragg looked at the worms as the crawled nearer.  
  
"Once they are out of the trenches it will be impossible to track them all down but right now they are new-born, staying close to the nest, your trenches. This is our last chance to get them all in one go"  
  
Brag nodded. The Doctor called Clara out of the Tardis and the three of them began to pile the ammunition in a large pile. Half way through the Doctor took one of the bottles of whisky and made a Molotov cocktail with some rags from his pocket. He handed it to Bragg and then ran into the Tardis.  
  
Bragg and Clara watched as the grubs got ever closer and the numbers began to grow. The Doctor came running out of the Tardis clutching what looked like a can with a strange nossel on the top.  
  
"What is that?" asked Clara.  
  
"Oh something a friend of mine in Perivale knocked up. It should give the ammo enough extra power to destroy these trenches and get rid of all of the grubs."  
  
The Doctor placed the can on the top of the pile and retreated back to where Clara and Brag were standing. The three of them stood quietly for a moment looking at their handy work.  
  
"Will it do the job?" asked Bragg.  
  
"I'm sure it will" replied the Doctor.  
  
Bragg reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold lighter, he stuck it and a flame rose up. Bragg was moving the flame towards the piece of cloth hanging out of the bottle of whisky when he let out a scream.  
  
"Oh my god, help me" he said as he fell to his knees.  
  
The Doctor and Clara looked on in horror as blood began to trickle from his mouth.  
  
"Into the Tardis" the Doctor screamed at Clara.  
  
She hesitated, wanting to help the sergeant but the Doctor would have none of it he manhandled her through the Tardis door and shut it behind her. He then moved over to Bragg who was now bent over on his knees, his whole body trembling. The Doctor knelt down beside him.  
  
"Can you finish this?" whispered the Doctor into Bragg's ear.  
  
The sergeant managed a trembling nod. The Doctor patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry" he said and entered the Tardis.  
  
A huge noise rose up from the trench, a familiar wheezing groaning sound. Bragg managed to raise his head through the convulsions and his bloodshot eyes managed to catch the sight of the final traces of the Tardis evaporating into the air. With a final effort he managed to pull the bottle to the lighter then throw it at the ammo. He expired before the bottle exploded on to the pile of ammunition.  
  
It was said for many years after that the explosion form the trenches that night had been seen and heard as far away as London.  
  
The End of the Beginning...Tune in next time for the further adventures of the Doctor, Clara and Tom. 


End file.
